Sacred battles and Ancient Prayers
by Lima
Summary: Bulma reflects on her get together with Vegeta and makes an interesting discovery. R


Hey All! I am the Mighty Lima! *Does Saiyaman poses* I do not own the poor people I am abusing in this fic. If I did, I wouldn't be posting here, that's for sure.   
  
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It was dawn. The sun was just stealing over the horizon when she woke up. For a moment she was disoriented. The instant she saw the face of the person dozing beside her, however, the whole night came rushing back. He looked so peaceful. For a moment, she didn't think about all the hell that would come when she went down stairs. How her dad would throw a fit, and her mom would get all giggly. How Yamcha would go berserk and call her names. She didn't think about how the man beside her wasn't human (not that it mattered to her, but to some people-cough cough Yamcha- it would matter).   
All she thought about was the night she had just spent in Vegeta's arms.   
She gave a small, contented sigh. She couldn't remember feeling so… loved. Vegeta might totally devote himself to his work, but so did she. He had a temper, but so did she. He was proud, well, so was she.   
His permanent frown had softened in his sleep. Bulma smiled. He was so handsome. She had always known it, but back then he was just a murderer, and she was going out with Yamcha, off and on at least, so she hadn't acted on the impulse to start any thing with the proud Prince.   
Yamcha. The bad parts of this heaven came back to her in another rush of emotion. She had been being awful loud. She guessed that must have been what got Vegeta's attention. Her screams.   
  
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"Dammit, Bulma, I don't have to stand here and be insulted!"  
"THEN GO SOMEWHERE ELSE! I'LL INSULT YOU THERE!"   
She knew she shouldn't have yelled. But she didn't expect him to hit her. She was a lot weaker than he was, and she knew he was the sort of scum who would do something like that if he get angry enough. But she didn't think he would hit her.   
But when she found herself on the ground nursing her jaw, she was surprised to find herself unsurprised. Blood spilled over her white fingers and white-hot pain shot the length of her face. She was startled when she realized she wasn't the only one whose fingers were gently probing her face. She followed the fingers along a muscular arm, over rock solid shoulders, to a concern filled face framed by dark, gravity defying hair.   
"Don't speak. Your jaw is broken." At this he sent a long, hard look over his shoulder. Bulma followed his gaze. Yamcha was in the corner, watching Vegeta's every move with worry etched on his scarred features. Vegeta glared in hateful disgust. The saiyan's gaze returned to her.   
"Don't move. And you," here he glared at Yamcha, "Come with me."  
Yamcha may have tried to protest, Bulma would probably never know. Vegeta snarled practically in her ear, and Yamcha followed him meekly outside.  
After a few moments, Bulma struggled to her feet (any and all motion sent jolts of pain through the lower half of her bloody face) and watched through the window.   
Yamcha was already munching dirt. Vegeta's face was twisted in such unimaginable rage that Bulma did a double take. Why was he so upset? He hated Yamcha to no end, she knew, but just beating the tar out of Yamcha would have left him smirking evilly. He was livid with rage.   
"JUST WHAT WERE YOU THINKING, HITTING HER?!? WHAT THE HELL DID SHE DO TO YOU?!?"  
Yamcha paused, and Vegeta settled back to wait for an answer. Vegeta could be infernally patient when waiting for someone to make a fool of himself. He had hit her because she yelled, but Bulma yelled a Vegeta all the time, and all he did was yell back. He never hit her. That answer wouldn't satisfy him. Especially since she had yelled because he had been cheating on her again.   
"She doesn't give me any respect."  
"That's all you've got to say?"  
"Uhhh…"  
Vegeta sighed. "If that's all you've got to say, then it's my turn."  
Bulma blinked. What was he doing?  
"The woman doesn't give you respect because you don't deserve respect from a dog. Dirt is more reliable than-"  
"Where are you getting this crud?"  
"How many times has she dragged herself back here in tears because you failed to meet her? How many times has she seen you wandering around with other females? How many times?"  
Yamcha was lost for words. So was Bulma. She knew she had gone to talk to Vegeta plenty of times. Okay, blocked the way to the fridge and cried on his shoulder when he tried to get around her. But still, how could he know? He never said a word, just let her cry herself out and put her to bed like she was a child. She hadn't realized Vegeta had been listening to her. He sure didn't act like it. More like any excuse to get away from her crying was good enough. He had helped her mom with dinner to avoid her weeping. Set the kitchen on fire, but hey.   
Yamcha pulled himself out of his shock and launched himself at Vegeta.   
Thud! Wham!  
"This is getting old, you pathetic human weakling. Give up and go home."  
Yamcha struggled up. Bulma winced. He might be a jerk, but Vegeta could be devastatingly cruel to a fallen opponent.  
"Go crawl back into what ever disease ridden hole in the ground you slithered out of, and leave her alone."  
"Now you're sticking up for that bitch? That's a first."  
Vegeta worded his next speech very carefully.   
"When facing a weaker opponent, assuming that they are entirely helpless is unwise. Some of the most devastating attacks require next to no power at all. However, all battles are sacred, and others are not allowed to interfere. Therefore: killing or injuring her will not be tolerated. Do you understand?"  
Yamcha spat dirt and snapped, "Tolerate? You won't tolerate it? Remind me who the murderer is here. Go ahead, tell me."  
"Remind me who is pulverizing a harmless innocent moments ago for standing up for herself."  
Yamcha glared at Vegeta for a few minuets, then limped off. When Vegeta was certain he had gone, he wheeled and darted inside. He studied Bulma for a few minuets, then shrugged and gathered her in his arms. Bulma struggled and tried to yell. Vegeta tightened his grip on her knees and shoulders.   
"Quiet woman! Quit struggling. You need medical attention, ad you are getting it if I have to take you to the hospital kicking and screaming." Bulma quit fighting Vegeta's casually intimate touch. He didn't seem at all fazed by holding what Bulma knew was a gorgeous piece of woman flesh so close. Vegeta was all business. Get help; get back to Capsule Corp.   
  
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Vegeta smirked sleepily at his mate. He couldn't help it; she was so beautiful, thinking hard; clad only in a sheet. He squeezed her hand gently, and she jumped about a foot in the air. Vegeta twisted to catch her on his chest. Bulma froze. Those deep onyx eyes.   
"When facing a weaker opponent, assuming that they are entirely helpless is unwise. Some of the most devastating attacks require next to no power at all. However, all battles are sacred, and others are not allowed to interfere. Therefore: killing or injuring her will not be tolerated."  
Vegeta found himself lost in her brilliant blue eyes. Twin oceans, shining in the early morning light. He felt her mind through the bond. Pure, inquisitive sweetness poured from her like sunlight and sugar. He gently drew her in for a passionate kiss, thrilled at her reaction.   
Bulma felt his mind gently probing hers. She felt his emotions, rival to her own. Wild passion, straining against every ounce of discipline he could muster. Giddy, bewildering love, beyond anything she could have imagined from him. But beneath this adoring surface, she felt something …darker. Bulma deepened the kiss as she delved deeper into Vegeta's mind.   
  
Suddenly, she wasn't Bulma Briefs from earth. She was the 5-year-old crown prince of the planet Vegeta. She was sitting with a group of children, most of them a bit older than her. Lima, her brother Radditz and cousin Turles, and others gathered around. Crumbling stone statues, mostly covered by moss and the tentangulus. She patted a vine that had worked its way to her shoulder, felt the familiar prick, as the plant-slash-animal tasted her hand, assuring its self of the trespasser. Suddenly, a hand descended on the shoulder not occupied by carnivorous vines. She looked up as the other children bowed their heads and slammed their fists against their hearts in unison. She winced. A sweet, slightly nauseated voice bid then rise, and Vegeta looked upon his mother's face. She was a tiny lady, maybe a little shorter than the Vegeta Bulma knew. She had a baby with her. Vegeta's mind, her mind, identified the infant as his sister, only a few days old.   
A scream rang from behind one of the statues. The children wheeled and dropped into fighting stances. One of the serving girls dashed out from hiding. They relaxed, recognizing the girl. And snarled as someone blasted her from behind. She hit the ground before them, dead before impact. Her Majesty handed the baby to one of the young girls in the group. "Quickly, everyone back to the palace. Warn the others. Hurry!"  
"But Majesty-" "Mother-" "My Lady-"  
"Go!" She smiled. "I can take care of myself."  
Lima took control. "Alright chaps, you heard her ladyship." She took the crying princess and hushed her. "Come on!" And having so said, grabbed Vegeta's hand and ran. She had amazing power, but laden down with a very stunned but still heavy Vegeta the others soon caught up. They paused halfway to the gates. A woman's screams split the night. Vegeta turned to help. "You will be killed. And then your mother's sacrifice will have been in vain, and no one will know how right she is." The screams cut off sharply. "Was." Lima corrected herself. "Those were Freeza's men. We have to move."   
  
Bulma's head snapped up. Vegeta was staring at her in shock. Suddenly, the weight of what she had seen hit her. Tears spilled from her blue eyes. Vegeta reached out and drew her down to his chest. "Hush, sweet. Hush."  
Bulma whimpered in his protective embrace. Vegeta licked the salty tears off her face. "Don't cry, sweet. It'll be alright."  
"You don't believe that, do you?"  
He sighed. "We will see, kimoden. We will see." They were silent for a long time. Vegeta traced strange symbols absent-mindedly on her chest and belly. Suddenly he began to whisper. "What are you doing?" Bulma asked, sitting up. "Wait here."  
Vegeta got up and slipped into the bathroom. Bulma heard him fumbling with things on the counter, turning on the water, and then perched on the edge of the bed holding two small paper cups half full of water.   
He handed one to his bemused mate and said:  
"Da ore loong, massa al nae esnam ja;  
Da ore naow, ka massa al nam ja;  
Soo da ore soeng, ka massa al ore lon."  
"Jesamen"  
They tipped back their heads and gulped down the water. It was like someone had poured that cold water clean to her soul. She felt a huge weight lifted from her. There was nothing she could not achieve. Vegeta took the cups and set them on the table. As he turned to Bulma she tackled him, pressing her lips to his, her body alive, her senses sharp. She broke the kiss and gasped for breath, her face a little blue. Vegeta purred in her ear like a happy cat.   
"Better, sweet?"  
"Mmmmmmm."  
"Good."  
Later, Bulma looked up. "Vegeta?"  
"Hmmm?"   
"I didn't know. I-I'm sorry."  
"So am I. So am I."  
"I didn't know you had a sister." She laughed. "I didn't know Goku had a sister."  
"Neither does he. Perhaps… perhaps we should not tell him. He is not injured by the lack."  
Bulma sat up and looked at her musing mate. "Am I hearing this? You? Worried about Goku?"  
Vegeta snorted. "I am worried about her, sweet. I am not wholly convinced that she is dead. She was always a dangerous adversary. Her father was a tactical genius, and she was…" his voice trailed off. Bulma looked at him. The dark was pushing towards the surface, like molten silver in an old crucible. Angry, he was. Hurting, he was. She kissed him again, and another thought hit her. "How did I know that word?"  
"What?"  
"That word. I knew it. But I've never heard it before."  
"My mind supplied you with the word needed to finish the prayer."  
"Prayer?"  
"Da ore loong, massa al nae esnam ja;  
Da ore naow, ka massa al nam ja;  
Soo da ore soeng, ka massa al ore lon."  
"What does it mean?"  
"For our past, that we may never repeat it;  
For our present, that we may live it;  
And for our future, that we may have one."  
"Here's to that." 


End file.
